


Fast

by Viridian5



Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-12
Updated: 2007-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abel’s hungers never cease.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fast

**Author's Note:**

> Partly inspired by Nine Inch Nails’ _Year Zero_.
> 
> Thanks to Bardsley for beta.

Gushing blood from a few holes in his torso and licking his own blood off his lips, in pain, Abel knew he couldn’t end the fight with the Methuselahs in his current form, but he always felt that reluctance to make the change if he could resolve the conflict without it. He preferred not to kill in general....

“Father Nightroad!” Tres said at great volume, his machine monotone nonetheless communicating impatience over the thunder of his gunfire. He’d already gone into genocide mode.

Yes. Quite.

Abel put his guns and glasses away; he wouldn’t need them soon. “Nanomachine Crusnik 02 initiating operation at 40% limitation. Acknowledged.” The change hit as a rush of differing lines of force: the downward thrust of lengthening sharp teeth against his lower lip and the scythe forming in his now clawed hands, the sideways wash of power across his eyes and regeneration in his wounds, the upthrust from his scalp and his slightly itchy shoulders, an itch he had even when he didn’t activate himself at a level that would give him wings. Power and confidence sang inside his veins, but he would not let himself forget that he was a monster.

Even as he cut them down with his scythe, some of the Methuselahs still shouted out insults about humans, priests, “cows,” and their “cow god” and made other shows of bravado. That came of thinking yourself the ultimate head of the food chain. Abel replied on autopilot, accustomed to hearing the same basic phrases thrown at him over and over. How many times and on how many missions had he given the “I’m a vampire that feeds on vampires” speech? Then again, part of the point was that none would escape to tell the others what he was. The Methuselahs here started to understand, especially as they watched him call their and their fallen comrades’ blood into himself, using it to further fuel his work. So hungry....

Just as Abel chopped the heart of the last one in front of him, Tres announced, “Field is cleared.”

They stood in the midst of carnage, the forest littered with mangled Methuselah corpses but very little blood. Crusnik tended to be neat that way. Caterina would want an investigation into why they’d been there in such numbers, and Abel didn’t look forward to it. But the major crisis seemed to be past, so he deactivated in a slow exhale of breath, his eyesight and hearing dimming, claws and fangs receding, and long silver hair dropping to straggle down his back and around his face. He reabsorbed his scythe into himself, put his glasses on, and tied his hair back with a ribbon.

His hunger remained, just shifted in what it wanted, from blood to something sweet.

Tres didn’t look at him any differently either way, didn’t judge.

“Initiating Crusnik 920 seconds earlier would have been more efficient,” Tres said.

...at least Tres didn’t judge Abel the way most people would. He thought of Crusnik in tactical terms. Then again, Tres wasn’t “most people” either. They both only looked simply human.

Abel lightened his voice, putting his usual persona back on like a favorite coat even as he tried to safety pin together the worst of the rents in his actual clothing. “You’re right. It might have saved some wear and tear on our uniforms too. It’ll probably be docked from our pay again, and I’ll starve. Again. We may even be chastised for presenting ourselves and the Vatican in public in such tattered clothing, as if it’s our fault.”

Tres’ blank face managed to look disdainful and get across the idea that he couldn’t be included in that “we” no matter how much battle damage he’d taken. Abel felt very strongly that Tres had a sense of feelings and humor, even though the android himself denied it.

Abel could tell Tres didn’t believe in the absent-minded, foolish façade he favored. Maybe he didn’t believe Abel was monstrous either? Not that it mattered.

It was late, Abel didn’t know when they’d reach the next town, and he was so very hungry.

 

### End


End file.
